


Firstborn

by SuuriSakara



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Boners, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Puberty, Sexual Experimentation, Teen Angst, Turtlecest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuuriSakara/pseuds/SuuriSakara
Summary: The curse of the firstborn is that, of anything the four of us are bound to experience, I’m the one to go through it first, and the only one to be alone while doing so. Naturally, handling the unfamiliar is great preparation for being a leader, but as they say, it’s lonely at the top.---The eldest of the Mutant Ninja Turtles finally enters his Teenage years. As with all adolescents, some awkward stuff is bound to happen.





	1. Chapter 1

            The curse of the firstborn is that, of anything the four of us are bound to experience, I’m the one to go through it first, and the only one to be alone while doing so. Naturally, handling the unfamiliar is great preparation for being a leader, but as they say, it’s lonely at the top. Even beyond the structure of our ninja clan, and having been chosen to lead my brothers, there have been certain burdens placed on me by virtue of nature alone. One of the most notable examples, if only from its embarrassment factor, became apparent one otherwise unremarkable morning when I was thirteen.

            From the time that we first mutated until this particular day, my brothers and I shared a mattress, with Master Splinter not too far away on his own. Though we were already on our way to our adult sizes, we’d grown accustomed to sleeping in close quarters; a king-size mattress was a fortunate junkyard find that could contain us all if we cuddled up just so. Be it for warmth, comfort, or a sense of security, we had never questioned, but whenever one of us became sick or hurt, and was quarantined away from the communal bed, it would be nearly impossible for them to fall asleep. It was a product of the close bond we shared, according to our father, one purely innocent and fraternal in nature. At least, that was his theory.

            Though the pattern in which we spread out across our mattress was random from night to night, one constant was Michelangelo’s need to have his carapace snuggled against one of us. No matter how we fell asleep, someone would wake up with an orange-banded ‘little spoon’ tucked in close against their plastron, and on this particular morning, the recipient was me. Another constant, barring emergencies or surprises, was my tendency to wake up before any of my brothers, usually rising at the same time as Master Splinter. On this day, though, something woke Mike first.

            “Psst. Leo.” He whispered, turning his head back in an attempt not to wake the others.

            “Hmm.” I mumbled, still mostly asleep, and shuffled closer toward the source of the noise. I could distinguish his voice, and feel the heat radiating from his body in my arms, but the majority of my hazy focus was on a pleasant friction coming from the base of my plastron. For a couple months prior, I could recall feeling an uncomfortable tightness or pressure each morning in the same area, just above the root of my tail, but seeing as it would disappear by the time I fully shook the clouds of sleep from my mind, I paid it no attention. This time, though, it was different; it was better, and as I pulled my little brother tighter into my embrace and subconsciously ground my hips forward, I really began to wonder what this pleasant sensation could possibly be.

            “Leo!” he whispered again, this time with a sense of urgency. “Dude, get off me!”

            “Huh…Mikey? What’s wrong?” My eyes slowly fluttered open, and I gave him a confused glance as he writhed his way out of my grasp.

            “You’re, uh…poking me, bro.” A blush crept across his face, and he hesitantly pointed a finger down toward what had been pressing into the back of his thigh. I let out a panicked gasp, as if I’d woken up to find one of my legs had been cut off.

            Having lived with it for thirteen years up to that point, my below-the-belt anatomy shouldn’t have come as a surprise. When I needed to use the restroom, I could take my penis out of its cartilaginous slit to do so, and tuck it back in when I was done. That was just about the only use it ever got. In this situation, though, not only was it out in the open of its own accord, but larger, more swollen, and much more sensitive than I’d ever thought possible. Even as I moved to sit upright, the feeling of my organ dragging against the sheets made me shudder with an unfamiliar electricity.

            “Ah! Sorry!” I yelped, trying to force everything back inside, but finding it impossible to do so in its current state. With nothing else to do, I covered my crotch with my hands and prayed I could melt into the bed, mortified with shame. “I didn’t mean to!”

            “Donnie! Hey Don, wake up!” He bent forward to shake at the genius’ shoulders. “I think Leo needs help!”

            “No!” I tensed up even further, shrinking away from them and practically falling off the mattress. It wasn’t as though we’d never seen each other’s private parts before, but early in our childhoods, our father had made it clear that they were indeed private, and that the only time someone else should be touching them was if they were wounded. Thankfully, injuries of that nature hadn’t occurred yet, but even at this age, Donatello was our designated medic in case of emergencies. No one else could make heads or tails of his medical and veterinary textbooks, and while Master Splinter knew the basics of first aid, Donnie was our resident expert on mutant turtle anatomy.

            “Huh? What…what’s wrong?” he yawned, flipping himself off his belly and blinking the sleep from his eyes as he brushed Mike’s hands off him.

            “Dude, it’s his…” he leaned in close and cupped his hands around his mouth to mask a dramatic whisper. “His _weiner_! It looks like it’s gonna explode!”

            “Seriously, Mikey, it’s fine. It’s going away already.” The embarrassing commotion sent my heartrate sky-high, and whatever inflammation was happening down there slowly started to recede as a result.

            “What do you mean, explode?” He raised an eyebrow ridge curiously, and started to squirm over toward me, his limbs untangling from Raphael’s in the process. “I suppose it’s possible you’ve contracted some kind of thrush; I mean, we live in about as moist and unsanitary of an environment as I can think of. Although…”

            “Better have a good reason to be kicking me like that, egghead.” Raph grumbled, cracking an eyelid angrily. “What’s a matter, Leo got his tail tied in a knot?”

            “Come on, Leo, there’s no need to be embarrassed.” Don soothed, trying to pull my hands away as I continued shifting further back from him. “I can’t help you if you don’t show me the problem.”

            Whether it was from a desire to help Donnie diagnose me, or just to worsen my blatant discomfort, Raphael decided to grab onto my wrist just before I could scoot out of reach. Trapped, I relented, turning my head away and wishing the sewer tunnel would collapse on top of us before anyone could see.

            “Woah, that thing is huge!” Raph bellowed, laughing hard enough to shake the mattress beneath us. “What happened, you got bit by a whole family of bedbugs? Holy shit!”

            “Language, Raphael!” A harsh voice boomed from the kitchen. Master Splinter rounded the corner, sipping from his steaming mug of tea. “How many times must I tell you, there are certain words…What is the meaning of this?”

            His eyes looked like they were about to fall out of his head as he watched Raphael pinning my forearm to the mattress, Donatello eyeing my crotch like a science experiment with his head between my legs, and Michelangelo perched on the corner of the bed with a look of mystified horror on his face.

            “It’s nothing, Sensei.” Donatello exclaimed nonchalantly. “Leo just has an erection, and Mikey thought it meant he was ill or injured.”

            “Hmm…” Splinter was clearly just as confused as I was, taking a long moment to compose himself. “If that is all, then you would be wise to let your brother go and give him a bit of space.”

            “Wait, he has a _what_?” Mike gawked.

            “An erection.” Don recited, as if reading it from a dictionary. “It’s perfectly normal, really. It’s an involuntary physiological response often initiated during the REM phase of sleep, or by…”

            “It is something we can discuss at length, sometime later.” Splinter pressed his fingers to the bridge of his snout, letting a stressed sigh out. “For now, you must prepare for today’s mission: we are finding you each a separate bed.”

            We trained hard that morning, and after lunch, we assembled on _tatami_ mats in front of Sensei in the dojo for what proved to be, quite probably, the most awkward conversation of our lives. For all his wisdom and good intentions, Master Splinter was no academic of turtle biology, so thankfully he kept the discussion purposefully vague. Essentially, it centered around us coming upon a certain age where our bodies would behave…unexpectedly, and that while such changes were completely natural, it would be best to give each other as much space and privacy as we could manage in our cramped lair. What had happened that morning was inevitable, given our sleeping arrangement, but still improper; brothers aren’t meant have any contact with each other in such a personal way. If we had any further moral or spiritual questions, we were to come to him in private, and any further physical or biological questions could likewise be brought to Donatello.

            Once we all (repeatedly) insisted we understood, and that the talk didn’t need to continue, Raph set about tearing our old king-size mattress into two twin-sized ones, while Don started constructing the frames for two sets of bunk beds out of old metal pipes and fittings. That left Mike and I to accompany Master Splinter to the junkyard, in hopes of finding two more mattresses in decent condition. At this age, our trips to the surface were few and far between, only out of necessity, and always under cover of night. The closest junkyard was just over the Harlem River, in the Bronx, so we only needed to emerge from the sewers and subway tunnels for a short distance to reach our destination.

            When we arrived, Sensei set off searching one corner of the yard, leaving Mikey and I to peruse the other side as a team. Our journey there had been one of total silence, as per Master Splinter, but throughout the whole day, I felt like conversation with any of my brothers would be too awkward, given the compromised state they’d seen me in that morning. Despite both my father’s and Donatello’s assurances that what happened was normal and healthy, I couldn’t help but ruminate on my thoughts of being a freak, or unwell, and how wrong it was to touch Michelangelo in the way I had. Apparently, the family chatterbox wasn’t feeling the same tension I was.

            “So…Does it hurt?” he mused, kicking a bottle cap as his head swiveled to examine the piles of junk around us.

             “Does what hurt?”

            “Y’know…When your thing was all…big?”

            “Oh.” I cleared my throat, looking away from him to conceal the crimson hue flushing my cheeks. “Kind of? I guess it’s kind of like an ache…But not painful like a bruise. I’m not sure how to explain it.” I prayed he would let the topic die, before I embarrassed myself any further.

            “Yeesh.” He grimaced. “Remind me to never grow up.”

            “Only a matter of time, bro.” I chided.

            Before too long, Mike had found a slightly-tattered twin-sized mattress lying beneath a heap of scrap metal. Apparently unfazed by the numerous stains on it, he slung the weighty mass of cloth and springs across his back and started carrying it toward where Splinter had left us. Our father had discovered a mattress for me, thankfully in better condition than Mike’s, and after unearthing it from the pile it was lodged in, the three of us set out toward our home, as stealthily as possible with such hefty cargo in tow.

            When we arrived at the lair, Donnie and Raph had assembled the bedframes, placing them in the far corner of the room where our shared mattress had once been. Being close to our usual bedtime, the two of them had already laid down in their new spots, with Raph claiming the top bunk and Don below him. I couldn’t help but feel some sense of remorse at seeing the stitched-up ends of our king-sized mattress where it had been divided, knowing it was my fault that we had to disrupt the routine that kept us together practically since birth.

            “Still don’t see why we all gotta do this, when it’s just Leo’s body that’s acting all crazy.” Raph grumbled, staring up at the ceiling as Mike slid his own mattress into position on the vacant top bunk and bounded up into it. “Shouldn’t have to lose a good night’s sleep just ‘cause one of us ruined the party.”

            “Because it’s only a matter of time before it happens to all of us.” Don explained, not bothering to look up from the book in his hands. “And if my estimates are correct, barring any major hormonal differences, you’ll be experiencing the same changes within the year. You may as well get used to it now.”

            Once I set up my own bed and washed up, I found myself just as miserable as Raph was. Splinter was off in his own corner of the lair for the night, and all the lights were turned down low, barring the reading lamp Don had clamped to the underside of Raph’s bedframe. The thin cloth blankets draped over me couldn’t possibly make up for the familiar warmth of my brothers’ bodies, and judging by the eerie silence taking the place of the usual snoring and steady breathing, all three of them were thinking the exact same thing.

            “Yo Mikey.” Raph grunted after an indefinitely long while. “C’mon up here. No way I’m falling asleep like this.”

            “I’m not confident that the top bunk can handle twice its intended weight.” Donnie hawed, stopping Mikey in his tracks as he started to scramble downward. “And I certainly don’t want to be under you when it collapses.”

            “Then we’ll come down with you.” He countered, pulling his sheets back and moving to do so. “Bet we can fit, if you’re okay with being a nerd sandwich for the night.”

            “You guys heard Master Splinter.” I murmured. “He doesn’t want us doing that anymore.”

            “What, you gonna tattle on us?” Raph sneered, swinging down onto Don’s bed and nudging him aside as he slid under the covers. “Just wake us up before he comes in.”

            Mike hopped down jubilantly and joined the pile, a tangle of limbs hanging off the edge of the mattress as they struggled to make room in much smaller quarters than they were used to. Not having nearly enough room to keep reading, Donnie caved in and flicked off his lamp. There in the darkness, I listened as their breathing slowed, and the rumble of Raph’s snoring eventually entered the chorus. Turning away from them and curling up until my knees were practically at my chest, I did my best to ignore the feelings of seclusion and isolation that surrounded me, refusing to let them hear a sniffle or sob as tears began to leak from my eyes. Sleep, though, would not come for a long while yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my truly riveting coming-of-age tale! Lmao jkjk this is literally just my take on how the Turts would handle the awkwardness that is puberty and sexual awakening. Being cut off from the outside world, and living in such close quarters (without any proper clothes, no less), it's surely unique compared to the normal human experience, yet I can't really find any fiction that delves into it in great detail. Everyone loves the 'cest, but no one ever asks about the physical foundations that make it possible!
> 
> I have a B.S. in biology, and am a former turtle owner myself (once I get my own place, hopefully I will be one again soon!) so please allow me to indulge my inner science nerd for a bit:
> 
> Given what species of turtles are most commonly sold in pet shops in the US, I assume the boys are eastern box turtles (Terrapene carolina ssp. carolina). In captivity or in the warmer portions of their native range (mine were from a bayou in Louisiana), females can lay two clutches per year. Typically, these clutches consist of four or five eggs each. However, recall that in S07E07 of the 2003 series, the memory that shakes Raphael from the Cyber Shredder’s control was one of Michelangelo’s birthday party, implying that each of the boys has a different birthday. Thus, we will say each of the boys came from a separate clutch, explaining their differences in physical and mental maturity. Essentially, in this chapter, since Leonardo is 13 1/2, that would make Raphael 13, Donatello 12 1/2, and Michelangelo 12. Still following me?
> 
> The variable that’s difficult to explain is the age at which turtles reach sexual maturity; in the wild, an unmutated turtle does anywhere between 5-10 years of age, and reaches their full adult size around 20. Seeing as the mutagen makes them more ‘humanoid’, that would seem to shift the start of puberty toward the 11-12 that’s average for males, and reaching adult size around 18-20, right? Well, here’s where I have to start crafting some complicated theories. Because a box turtle can live to well over 100 in captivity, we can assume that the boys have a longer lifespan than the average human. Thus, if that human starts puberty at 12, about 15% of the way through their roughly 80-year lifespan, then the boys would also do so 15% of the way through their 100-year lifespan, or in other words, at age 15. So, 13 1/2 doesn’t seem like an unreasonable age for one to have their first erection. Kind of makes sense, right?
> 
> Here comes the canon nerd with additional evidence:
> 
> In S06E01 of the 2003 series, Leonardo says the boys have undergone “15 years of ninja training”, which would imply that at that point, Michelangelo is roughly 15 (seeing as they were ‘baby turtles’ when mutated, I assume Michelangelo is relatively freshly hatched at that point). This would mean that in S01E01, when they leave their original ‘first lair’ with a common sleeping area for the Y’Lyntean outpost with separate rooms, Leonardo is probably 14-ish, as each season seems to cover less than a year in real-time. Thus, this chapter takes place about one year before S01E01.
> 
> I just wrote up more justification for this thesis than I did for any paper in university, so I hope you appreciate it! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, kudos-ing, and commenting! This series is my temporary distraction from the much longer and less canon-centric "Typhoon", so I'll gauge which one I should keep updating based on the reception this chapter gets!


	2. Chapter 2

            For a few months, our status quo consisted of everyone getting into their own separate beds until Splinter retired to his quarters, then my brothers would stealthily pile into Donnie’s bunk and enjoy a good night’s sleep in the manner they always had: together. Consistently being the first to rise, I would wait for my usual uncomfortable situation to resolve, then wake the others before our father could find them, feeling it was the least I could do after shattering the tradition we had shared for so long. It pained me, and though I eventually adjusted to sleeping on my own, a seed of jealousy began to bloom within me over time.

            One morning, I pretended to sleep in a bit later than usual, allowing the three of them to be caught by Splinter. He chewed them out something fierce for going behind his back, making them train long into the afternoon and assigning extra chores to each of them. Donnie seemed the most understanding and repentant, but Mikey and Raph continued to groan and put up a fuss through the whole ordeal, seeing Sensei’s new rule as stupid and cruel. Raph, in particular, declared that, should his body go through the same changes mine had, he would voluntarily stop sharing a bed, but until that day came, he saw no reason to let an old habit die.

            As the four of us gradually fell into our new routine, I began to notice unique little details about everyone’s sleeping habits. Mike, for example, would often wake up at three or four in the morning and scurry to the bathroom, not surprising given his penchant for soda and salty snacks close to bedtime. Don, on the other hand, would stay up later than any of us, either reading in bed or using the kitchen table to tinker with whatever technology had occupied his mind. At first, Raph’s sleep seemed to be deep and uninterrupted, a strange thing to observe given how vocally he’d objected to sleeping alone. About three months into what had become the new normal for us, though, something changed.

            It didn’t happen every night, but seemed to be increasing in frequency over time once it started. About an hour after whatever time Donnie finally decided to call it a night, I would be stirred by the sounds of Raph leaving his bed, doing so slowly in an attempt to lessen the creaking of his bedframe. None of the others ever seemed to notice, but the lightness of my own sleep left me susceptible to detecting such a thing. Unlike with Mike, there was no telltale flushing from around the corner to suggest the restroom was his destination, and he wouldn’t return for anywhere from fifteen minutes to a half-hour. Knowing my brother’s rebellious nature, I first suspected that he was taking secret trips to the surface, but such a timeframe made it seem unlikely. Given his secrecy about wherever he was going, I logically assumed that outright asking him about his excursions would be met with silence at best, and more likely, anger. That meant my only option to get some answers was to follow him.

            I waited for a night where Don turned in relatively early, not wanting to ruin my own delicate sleep schedule just to satisfy my curiosity. Once the lights were turned off, I focused on keeping still and slowing my breathing pattern to where it sounded like I was fast asleep. Sure enough, within forty-five minutes, the telltale groan of weight lifting off metal gave away that Raph was making his move. Waiting until the patter of his feet on the brick floor seemed to turn a corner, I sprung into action, silently bounding from my bed and using every ounce of ninja training to trail my target in absolute stealth.

            In near-total darkness, such a pursuit is easier said than done, but I allowed my ears and my mental map of our home’s layout to guide me at a safe following distance. He tiptoed through the living room, and over to the false wall, which split to reveal the open sewer tunnels beyond. Hesitating for a moment to listen for any indication that one of us had heard the relatively noisy door, he seemed satisfied with his sneakiness, and darted out. Before the door could close behind him, I slid through, barely grazed by the bricks as I did so. Out here, the moon and streetlights projected narrow beams of light through the drainage grates, thankfully giving me a bit more to go on visually as the sound of rushing water through the gulley overpowered his footsteps.

            Years of being the house tattletale had built up an instinct to surprise Raph with a ‘gotcha!’ declaration, but I forced myself to hold my tongue as he paced a few yards away from the door, then sat down on the concrete with his feet dangling down into the gulley, almost skimming the surface of the coursing rainwater below. He swiveled his head around to check if he’d been followed, thankfully missing my silhouette as I lingered in the shadows beside the doorframe. Finding himself seemingly alone, I watched with curiosity as his hand snaked down the midline of his plastron, then toyed with the cartilaginous slit right above the base of his tail for a moment. Out into the cool white light popped his manhood, already turgid and faintly bobbing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

            So, puberty had struck Raph, just as it did to me, but he had the privilege of learning so without any fanfare or subsequent awkward speeches. That didn’t exactly answer my question as to why he’d taken to sneaking out, but I figured an explanation would come if I stayed patient. Sure enough, he gently wrapped his fingers around his shaft, letting a breathy gasp escape his lips as he slowly began rolling his hand up and down his length. As I examined the scene before me studiously, watching his tail start to wag merrily and noting that the silhouette of his organ seemed slightly shorter than my own, yet a great deal thicker, the utter wrongness of the situation struck me in full force. As had been reiterated since early in our childhood, these parts of our body were private, and yet there I was, staring at my brother doing something so unfamiliar with it. Try as the angel on my shoulder might to bid me to look away and leave Raph be, his devilish counterpart fixed my gaze on whatever was playing out in front of me.

            Clearly, Raph was enjoying himself, as evidenced his hushed groans and steadily quickening tempo, but some strange new sound began to cut through the air, a low, rumbling churr from within his chest. That explained why he retreated out of the lair to do this; even awake, I was startled by the foreignness of such a noise, and I imagined the others would be shaken from their sleep if he had made it while in bed. Repositioning himself, he rolled back onto his shell, switching his ministrations to the right hand to give his fatigued left a break. From this angle, I could see his eyes were screwed tightly shut, and his mouth agape enough for the string of panting breaths and lewd sounds to continue. Something about the enraptured state he was in provoked a reaction in my own loins, but I did my best to ignore the growing pressure therein as I observed him. Raph was in the most vulnerable condition I could imagine, a stark contrast from the gruff and tough façade he had already built up at such a tender age, and seeing him with all of his walls down made him look nothing like the brother I knew.

            After a while, the rhythms of his ragged breathing and pistoning grip dramatically crescendoed, and a throaty whine echoed through the tunnel as what looked like a glob of viscous fluid shot out the head of his cock, making an arc through the air before landing in the water. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as the speed of his hand suddenly slowed, and spurt after spurt followed the first, each decreasing in force until it was merely a gush running down his shaft and onto his hand. Even from my vantage point, my nose began to register a heavy, musky scent that was entirely unfamiliar over the usual aroma of the sewer. It was something like the pure, concentrated essence of turtle, along with notes of smoke and cinnamon. Finally, he let his arms and head fall back to the concrete with a contented sigh, and for a brief moment, I thought he might have injured himself. When he peeled himself off the ground and bent forward to wash his hands in the water, I let out a breath of relief, and slid further back into the shadows as he stood upright and reentered the lair with a drowsy grin on his face.

            Rather than follow him back inside, I felt compelled to stay out in the tunnel. Whatever he had just done, it must have been one of those ‘unexpected ways’ Splinter had told us our bodies would behave in, and if Raph had already figured it out, that meant I was a step behind. My mind directed itself back to the aching bulge in my plastron, and mirroring what I had seen, I experimentally slid a finger inside the rubbery flesh of my slit. Like a jack-in-the-box, my own organ sprung out into the palm of my hand. Delicately curling my fingers around it, I felt the same bristle of electric sensation that I had only previously known from dragging sheets across it or briefly cleaning it in the shower. While my own thought process had been to simply regard that feeling as another aberration of nature, clearly my brother had taken it to the hedonistic conclusion: if it feels good to touch, then touching it more must feel even better.

            Maintaining the image of Raph from moments ago in my mind, I pumped my hand up and down gently, allowing the loose skin to glide with my motions until the ring of my fingers reached the most sensitive part, right at the base of the head, then sliding back down toward the hilt. My manhood felt harder and more engorged with each heartbeat, and before I knew it, a similar churring sound began to involuntarily rattle the scutes of my chest. It frightened me at first, but in a minute, I came to appreciate the gentle vibrations as their volume increased with my arousal, and I quickened the pace of my grip. The thoughts of the same noise coming from Raph assured me, and seemed to intensify the pleasurable sensations firing through my unexplored nerves. My brain seemed stuck in a loop, replaying the taboo act of watching my brother do this to himself, and reveling in sharing the same secret ritual with him.

            Before long, the muscles of my groin seemed to tense, and in a sudden swell, the feelings I’d been experiencing turned into sensory overload. A surprised moan escaped my mouth, and after a moment of what felt like hanging weightless, frozen in time, wave after wave of pure ecstasy crashed over my entire body. The tight muscles of my lower groin contracted and relaxed of their own will, as if the base of my plastron had its very own furious heartbeat. Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes, I scarcely realized that I’d reached the same peak Raph had until I felt a hot ooze coating my fingers as the force of each wave began to diminish.

            When the last of the pleasant sensations had subsided, I felt as spent as I would after a full morning of training, wishing I could fall asleep right there in the open sewer. Curiously, I brought my damp hand up to eye level, spreading my fingers and noting how it strung viscously. My own secretions had a similar scent to Raph’s, strong and overpowering, but with notes of seawater and peppermint. Somewhat grossed out by it, I splashed a bit of rainwater from the gulley onto my hands until it drifted down the sewer and out of sight. I found myself genuinely excited that I’d unlocked such pleasures from within my own body as I silently made my way inside. Whatever I’d just accomplished, I knew it would become a regular occurrence soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Creeper/non-con voyeur" isn't the first thing to come to mind when one thinks of Leo, but let's be real. For the eldest son, he's a naive little turtle, and when your little brother has as much testosterone as Raph does, he's bound to figure this kinda stuff out first. Thus enters the sibling rivalry that's so typical between these two!
> 
> I'd like to take this time to declare that, as a person, I do not support the sexualization of underage individuals, nor do I support incest. However, not only are these characters fictional, come on, they're mutant turtles, y'all. Human rules don't apply, whether Splinter wants them to or not.
> 
> Much love to all who read, kudos, and comment! Gotta say, I think it's both awesome and hilarious what kind of response this story has gotten in less than 24 hours; I'll spend days and days crafting a chapter of "Typhoon", and get like 20 hits, then throw some awkward spiel about terrapin puberty together in a couple hours, and of course, if it mentions dicks at all, it's guaranteed to get 100+ hits! Lmaooo I'm not complaining though, like what you like and read what you wanna read! Stay tuned folks!


	3. Chapter 3

            For a couple weeks, everything went smoothly. Some nights, I would wait until Raph not-so-secretly excused himself and returned, while on others, I would listen for his telltale snoring to let me know I had the sewer to myself for the evening. Truth be told, beyond the physical pleasures that came with venturing out of the lair, I took a certain sense of mental solace in finally having some alone time. Having spent almost every moment of my remembered life as one piece in a set of four, the opportunity to sit by myself in relative silence and hear my own thoughts was more than welcome. Eventually, I found myself taking longer and longer to come back to bed, simply basking in my afterglow and looking up at the sky through the sewer grates. Of course, given the karmic order of the universe, such a good thing was bound to end eventually.

            I suppose I got impatient. The later I stayed out, the more tired I would be during training the next morning, and Master Splinter had begun to notice my occasional lapses of focus. Therefore, on one particular night where Don decided to sleep at a reasonable hour, I simply bided my time until I thought I could make out three distinct rhythms of slow, steady breathing. Raph typically didn’t start snoring right away, so I figured I was in the clear after about forty-five minutes lying in bed. With the utmost stealth, I made my move, practically holding my breath until I found myself in the safety of the open tunnel. Not bothering to walk too far from the door, I plopped down in a patch of light filtering through from street level and began to coax my manhood from its hidden pouch.

            The routine nature of my excursions meant I was already half-hard by the time I slipped out of the lair, eager with the expectation of what was to come. I regarded my organ in the light as it protruded, examining how the jade flesh was tinged mauve at its bulbous head, and tracing the pulsing course of blood vessels that bulged along the shaft. Savoring the shudder that ran up my spine as I toyed with the bridge of skin just below the underside of the head, my ears registered the crunch of the false brick wall opening behind me. In a heartbeat, I practically jumped out of my skin, snapping into rigid posture and shooting an anxious glance over my shoulder to find Raph staring back at me, arms crossed and lips pursed into a disgruntled frown.

            “You gotta ruin everything for me, don’t ya, Splinter Junior?” He growled in a low voice, fists tensing instinctively around the space on his belt where his sais usually hung. “Can’t even let me sneak out for one measly stinkin’…”

            He read my flustered expression, and stepped toward me, forcing me to rotate my hips around and clap my hands over my crotch before he could see me in my exposed state. Slowly, his terse expression lightened into a knowing grin, and a devious chuckle began to rumble from his throat, growing into raucous full-on laughter.

            “Quiet down!” I whispered tensely, turning my body further away from him as he came to stand right beside me.

            “Right, sorry.” He wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as his hysterics began to peter out. “Just…wow. You too, huh?”

            He stooped down to sit next to me, with only about a body’s width of space between us, and let a finger dance around the flesh of his slit. Obviously, my gruffest brother was never one for decorum, but his utter lack of concern for modesty was jarring, to say the least.

            “Can’t you do that somewhere else?” I yelped. “This is…private, you know! Master Splinter told us…”

            “What, you’re gonna go wake him up and tattle on me?” He smirked, not meeting my exasperated gaze as his own eyes focused on the turgid meat flopping out into his palm.

            Looking away before Raph could notice how intently I eyed him as he started playing with himself, I noticed my own erection had subsided a bit in the panic. I tried my best to ignore his presence as I mustered it back up to full strength, but was distracted by a distinct spitting sound.

            “Eww! What are you doing that for?” I grimaced, watching as he moistened his hand with saliva before applying it back onto his shaft.

            “Kinda gave myself rug-burn tugging too hard.” He purred. “Plus, this feels _way_ better. Look.”

            Before I could react, his glistening fingers shot over between my legs, curling around my rod firmly and giving a few slow pumps. I had to admit he was right; the slick, gliding motion made my toes curl, and an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp escaped my lips. Reflexively, I batted his hand away.

            “What’s wrong with you?” I whined. “Haven’t you heard of personal space?”

            “Sheesh, you never quit, do ya?” He grumbled, snapping his arm back over to his own lap and continuing what he had started. “C’mon, bro, we were still taking baths together, what, six years ago?”

            “You _know_ this is different.” I protested, refocusing my attention on myself.

            As silently as I could, I hocked a bit of spit onto the palm of my hand, and set about building up a steady rhythm of stroking. A faint snicker snuck between Raph’s teeth, clearly noticing I was copying him, but I feigned ignorance; conversation seemed to make the act needlessly difficult. As he had promised, the extra lubrication did add certain new stimulation to my motions, but in the back of my mind, I had to note that it didn’t feel quite as intense as the brief moment where it had been his hand in the place of my own.

            Right when I convinced myself I was alone, and could get comfortable in my routine, a satisfied groan or muttered curse word would shake me from my concentration, and remind me of his presence beside me. Doing this with company was more complicated than I could have imagined; despite Raph either keeping his eyes to himself or shutting them, I felt as self-conscious as a performer before a crowded audience. On the other hand, each lewd sound that my brother made seemed to cause my manhood to twitch and jump in my grip. After a while, the low vibrations of his churr made an appearance, strong enough that I could practically feel it through the cement beneath us. The sound seemed to lure my own out, forming some kind of lustful harmony. In this close of quarters, I could tell his was of a much deeper pitch than my own, a bass to my baritone.

            “What do you think about?” His voice was barely more than a husky murmur.

            “Excuse me?” Such an open-ended question caught me off-guard.

            “You heard me.” He rumbled, rolling back onto his carapace and applying a fresh coating of saliva onto his hand. “What kinda stuff gets the Fearless Leader going?”

            “Uh…” I couldn’t exactly tell him that I still thought back to the night I had discovered him out here, so unabashedly having his way with himself. “Nothing, really. Just focus on what I’m feeling.”

            “Hmm.”

            From the corner of my eye, I noticed his lips seemed to press into a frown, but the strength of his churring and the tempo of his hand continued to swell.

            “What about you?”

            “Dunno why, but…Keep thinking about the stuff they do on Splinter’s soap operas.” He panted. “Y’know, kissing, making out…”

            “With who?” I muttered curiously.

            Perhaps I’d been too quiet for him to hear me. Rather than giving a response, Raph sucked in a deep breath and tensed his body like a bow. A throaty moan echoed throughout the tunnel, and his seed burst out in thick ropes down into the water below us. My own hand froze in place as I watched him, able to make out the muscles of his groin quivering as they contracted and relaxed in rhythm. Blissed out and fully sated, he let his head clunk against the concrete floor, and I hastily snapped my face forward and down, desperate to make myself not look like a spectator. The scent of his musk hit my nostrils like a truck, making my head begin to go a bit hazy and my erection throb in my grasp. Before he could open his eyes, I resumed the pace of my pumping.

            “Guess I’ll leave ya to it, then.” He hunched forward to splash his hands in the water, letting the viscous white fluid on his fingers drift away. “Catch you in the morning, bro.”

            With a tired yawn, he hoisted himself up and made his way over to the door. As it shut behind him, I subconsciously let out the breath I’d been holding, and felt a great deal of tension in my neck and shoulders release at his absence. His nonchalance through the whole encounter had been so unsettling…Sitting next to me, touching me in the most intimate of areas, asking me about my most personal thoughts. And what a strange answer he’d given me! How were kissing and holding someone related at all to what we were doing to ourselves?

            As I picked up where I’d left off before Raph made his appearance, an unbidden thought wormed its way between my ears: one of my own brother, his lips pressed against mine hungrily, stroking me as he had only minutes before. Rather than sitting beside me, he was straddling my legs, pinning my shoulders to the floor as he took pride in doing whenever he could get the upper hand on me during training. From those experiences, I knew just how much strength he stored in those taut cables of muscle, how massive and weighty his body seemed compared to mine, and how hot and steamy his breath could be as it panted between his lips and warmed my face and neck. Previously, I’d only ever considered those times as defeats, the little details as annoyances not worth a second thought, but now…

            Before I could even register the growing sensations of tightness and desperation from my lower body, they crested into the most earth-shattering release I’d experienced yet. An anguished cry erupted through gnashing teeth, though all I could hear was the thumping of my racing heart in my ears. I was practically seeing stars by the time I finished, sitting hunched on the floor panting and dripping sweat. Thinking about Raph was like a secret shortcut straight to the finish line, and I didn’t quite know what to do with that knowledge.

            Rather than reveling in the dopey sleepiness that normally came afterward, I found myself concerned, and somewhat reviled with what I’d discovered. Master Splinter had spoken in no unclear terms that contact of that nature between brothers was improper. Naturally, that didn’t faze Raph, but I was ever the golden child, the one to take our father’s word as law. Normally, I would take any dilemmas on my mind or mistakes I had made to him and seek his wisdom, but this…Well, it seemed like something he would truly be disappointed in me for. Disgusted, even. It pained me to think of tarnishing his image of me like that.

            On reflex, I tried to convince myself there was some positive aspect to weigh against the reprehensible negatives. Ever since I was chosen to lead my brothers, Raph and I seemed to constantly be at each other’s throats, with the notable exception of tonight. The short encounter we had was like a taste of when we were younger, without animosity or anger. There had been a time when the two of us were best of friends, both unable to relate to Donnie’s academic interests and annoyed by Mikey’s shenanigans. Well into our preteen years, we were practically attached at the hip, pushing each other to train harder and become stronger than the other in a friendly sort of competition. Tonight, while his banter was off-putting in the moment, I thought back to it as a glimpse of those better days. Surely, getting closer with my brother, in the broadest terms, couldn’t be entirely a bad thing?

            Kicking my legs up and swinging upright, I continued to mull over the moral and practical implications of my thoughts while sneaking back into the lair and toward my bed. This was a conundrum like one I’d never dealt with before, and there was no one I could turn to for help. Mikey’s well-calibrated intuition, Donnie’s boundless intelligence, Raph’s passionate instinct, and Splinter’s lifetime of wisdom formed an arsenal of weapons I couldn’t use to attack this problem, lest I expose the desires that seemed so bizarre and unnatural. There between my sheets, surrounded by the steady breathing of my brothers, and with my father within earshot, I felt truly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone who's checked out my work! In a little under two months, my stories here have gotten over 3000 hits! While it certainly doesn't make me a celebrity by any means, I'm honored by the response my writing has gotten in such a short time!
> 
> I'm also excited to announce that (for perhaps the tenth time in my life) I've made a Tumblr! While this site is undoubtedly the best for publishing writing, I gather that Tumblr is far better for gaining an audience, fawning over artwork, and contacting others within the fandom. I'm very open to the idea of taking requests, so don't hesitate to drop me a line! 
> 
> https://thefuuriofsuuri.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'll admit, this is a story I don't have a fully fleshed-out plot arc for. Thus far, it's more a study on the discovery and experimentation that comes with adolescence. I know it's gonna involve all four brothers, and I know at some point there'll be genuine 'cest, but exactly how those things happen is still in the works. If you have suggestions, come on over to Tumblr and hit me up!
> 
> Much love, as always, and stay tuned folks!


	4. Chapter 4

            Despite the circumstances forcing us to move, relocating to the Y’lyntian outpost was one of the greatest things to happen to my family. Sure, we had grown attached to our old home over the years, and Donnie had done everything in his power to make it as livable as possible, but it was still a sewer junction by nature, prone to flooding, freezing, smelling unpleasant (even to our desensitized noses) and crumbling. The invasion of Stockman’s Mousers was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back, at least in terms of structural integrity. While Master Splinter had stumbled upon the cavernous alcove of turquoise and sandstone purely by accident, it would end up changing our lives in ways we couldn’t have predicted.

            For one, there was space for each of us to have our own bedrooms. For better or for worse, that put an end to my late-night interludes with Raph in the tunnels. Throughout the month between our first time meeting out there and the exodus to our new home, our schedules only coincided a handful of times. On those occasions, he didn’t touch me again, but he did continue to strike up conversation, sometimes even hanging around after he’d finished and chatting in the same carefree manner until I was done too. His demeanor was like that of a bank robber on the run with his accomplice, seemingly enthused at the idea of me breaking the rules alongside him. Whether he noticed that his presence continued to make me uncomfortable, or if he had an inkling of how interesting his body had suddenly become to me, he certainly didn’t show it.

            On our last rendezvous before the big move, though, he did say something that caught my attention while he was laying behind me, staring up through the storm drain to the city sky above us while we lingered for a while.

            “You think humans do this kinda stuff?” He mused, his tone light and dreamy.

            “What, hang out in the sewers after curfew?”

            “You know what I mean.” He grunted, giving me a light smack in the back of the shell. “The stuff before the hanging out.”

            “Honestly, you’re asking the wrong turtle. I mean…Mikey’s as caught up in human pop culture as any kid. Donnie has his textbooks. And you sneak off topside more than any of us.”

            “Well, it ain’t the kinda thing they show on TV, and I ain’t going around looking through people’s windows.” He noted. “Guess Donnie would know, but…C’mon, how would I even go about askin’ him?”

            “I could see it being awkward.” I giggled.

            “Maybe he’ll chill out a lil’ bit once he’s out here with us.” He pondered. “I know, on days where I feel like beating you outta your shell, coming out here’s just about the only thing to clear my head.”

            The idea of Donnie joining us rubbed me the wrong way at first. Sure, it was inevitable that he’d mature eventually, but part of me felt that him coming out to the tunnels would deprive Raph and I of our privacy, devaluing the time we spent together. Such feelings made me chide myself for being selfish; after all, Don and I were brothers, just as much as Raph and I were! At the same time, Raph had been the one to bring it up; I had to wonder if he’d keep up the same lighthearted chats he’d started with me. Would he touch Donnie the way he’d touched me? Would Donnie respond the same way I had, obsessing about it, but never building up the courage to ask for it again? Questions like this wracked my mind until we moved, whereupon I almost completely forgot about them.

            Another major change in our lives was the addition of new entertainment. In our old home, our only access to the media of the human world was an antique sixteen-inch TV set with an antenna, able to pick up the channel Splinter’s soap opera was on, and not much else. In the new lair, once he’d set up the necessities like heat, light, and running water, Donnie found a way to splice into the cable lines running nearby, and Raph and Mikey chanced upon a veritable pile of TVs in a junkyard run. After hours and hours of setting everything up, we only got a couple minutes of use out of them at first. A news headline on Stockman unveiling the Mousers, Mikey aimlessly channel-surfing when we’d been let off the hook from training, and another newsflash about the robot-perpetrated bank robbery was all we used them for until the mad scientist’s lab was completely destroyed, and the four of us were back in the safety of the lair, along with our newfound human friend.

            Once April had left, Mike found himself bored of the news channel, and reached for the remote to change it to an airing of Spider-Man. Raph snatched it before he had the chance, protesting that Mike had already got to use the TV, and that the Bourne Identity was a far better movie than Spider-Man anyways. Ordinarily, the two of them would practically be up in arms over such a petty squabble, with Mike gingerly jumping off walls and flipping through the air to yank the remote from Raph’s grip, only to be countered by the charge of a raging bull and a NFL-quality tackle to the floor. After such an exhausting day, though, their dispute looked meek and half-hearted, merely consisting of shoving and grumbling from opposite ends of the couch.

            “Here’s an idea.” I butted in, pushing their arms aside and stealing the remote from behind them. “Why don’t you let the one who set all this stuff up pick what he wants to watch?”

            I turned to lay the remote on Donnie’s work table, where he studiously tinkered with leftover parts from one of the Mousers.

            “That’s very thoughtful of you, Leo, but I…”

            “Fearless is right, for once.” Raph scoffed. “C’mon, egghead, you been working nonstop since we moved in. Take a load off and come hang.”

            Donnie acquiesced, plucking the remote from the table and flopping into the soft cushions of the easy chair, while I hopped over the back of the couch to sit between Raph and Mikey. Still unfamiliar with the myriad of new channels we’d never had access to, he flicked through a number of different shows until stumbling upon a BBC special, some nature documentary on South America.

            While Mike and Raph groaned discontentedly at first, their protests ended after a moment. Having spent the entirety of our remembered lives in New York City, the vast majority in its sewers, all four of us felt some sense of captivation at such striking footage of the outside world. No matter how much some of us would rather watch gory action movies or rehashed superhero tales, the alien appearance of the Falkland Islands’ rocky fjords and the goofy conduct of its penguin inhabitants was as enticing as any comedy or drama we could have watched instead.

            After a while of asking Donnie slews of questions about every animal to appear on screen, Mikey faded into sleep, as he was prone to do, with his head slumped against my shoulder. Now in relative silence, the three of us who remained conscious watched as the narrator continued on his journey through the Straits of Magellan, around the coasts of Peru, and toward the Galapagos, introducing strange new animals and delivering breathtaking views of faraway landscapes.

            “Hey, look!” Raph pointed toward the screen, where a monolithic tortoise was lumbering on a beach at a grueling pace toward two others. “It’s Donnie before his morning coffee!”

            “Accurate.” Don chuckled. “Although right now, it’s looking more like you and Leo whenever the slightest disagreement comes up.”

            Trudging toward one of the other tortoises, the two of them stopped in their tracks once close by one another, and seemed to make themselves appear as large as possible. By stretching their legs out and raising their necks in the air with wide-open mouths, eventually, one of them looked to have the edge on the other by no more than an inch.

            “What are they doing?” I asked, confused by whatever was taking place.

            “It’s a dominance display.” Donnie explained. “They’re competing for mating rights with the female.”

            Sure enough, the smaller male seemed to resign himself to defeat, shying away as the victor made his way over toward the female. Nipping at her hind legs to bid her to say still, he crept his way atop her carapace until he was practically vertical against her.

            “Uh, Donnie?” Raph piped up hesitantly. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

            “They’re mating.” He stated with amusement. “’The miracle of life’, as they say.”

            On screen, the male repeatedly bucked his hips forward into those of the female beneath him, releasing a satisfied grunt with each thrust. Though it sounded like nothing I’d ever heard before, the low, raspy quality of each groaning noise dredged up a memory of Raph emitting something vaguely similar out in the sewers.

            “You’re tellin’ me that’s how we got made?” Raph laughed incredulously.

            “Well, we aren’t Galapagos tortoises, but…More or less, yes. How’d you think it happened?”

            “Uh…” he pondered briefly. “Wasn’t exactly in Splinter’s lesson plan.”

            “Not that you’d have paid attention if it was.” I snickered.

            “Oh, like you know any more about it than I do.” He countered gruffly. “So, Einstein, you planned on leaving the rest of us in the dark, or are you gonna give us a rundown on this stuff?”

            “What do you want to know?”

            “Well, for one…” Raph stroked at his chin, gaze still fixated on the screen. “Where’s he puttin’ his…Y’know. His dick?”

            “Into her cloaca.”

            “Seriously?” His eyes bulged out, and with his typical lack of concern for modesty, he let a hand slip down toward his own. “You mean she’s got room in _this_ for all _that_?”

            “Well, females don’t have penises.” Donnie was clearly starting to find this humorous, poorly concealing his laughter while attempting to keep a straight face. “They keep their eggs up there instead. That’s why they copulate that way; the male has to fertilize the eggs with his sperm.”

            “Woah.” Raph let the new information sink in, gears visibly turning behind his eyes. “Yo Donnie, why ain’t you told us any of this shit before?”

            “Firstly, you never asked. Secondly, unless you’ve found some female mutant turtles you haven’t told me about, none of that information is practical anyways.”

            “It’s gotta be a turtle, though?” He turned to meet Don’s bemused glance. “What about, I dunno…April?”

            “One day of knowing her, and _that’s_ what’s on your mind?” He outright cackled. “No, between chromosome counts, egg-sperm compatibility, and everything else…Unless all I know about our mutation is wrong, there’s no way it’d work with a human.”

            “Huh.” Raph looked subtly disappointed. “So what am I supposed to do with this thing, then?” He gestured down to his hips.

            “Um…Anything you want, really?” Don blinked. “Within reason, I should add. Didn’t Master Splinter say you should take the philosophical questions to him, not me? It isn’t really my department.”

            Raph opened his mouth like he was about to give a retort, but the thought seemed to fizzle out, and he slumped back in his seat, crossing his arms. I sympathized with his lack of satisfaction at the answer, but as usual, Donnie was right; we couldn’t possibly expect him to explain away all our questions. As we watched the rest of the program, I tried to wrap my head around the strangely educational turn that the night had taken, and by the time we retired to our rooms, I was still mulling everything over. Unable to find sleep, I sought refuge in meditation.

            Consulting Sensei on matters like this may have been ideal, but as always, it felt far too taboo to bring up with him. From what I gathered, the changes my body had been undergoing represented the innate urge to mate. However, in the absence of any females, that urge had nowhere rational to go, so…Had it instead imprinted on Raph? Now knowing that the point of it all was to fertilize eggs, anything involving my all-too-male brother was indeed unnatural, just as our father had implied. Why, then, did I feel the way that I did? What wires in my brain were crossed? More and more, this was seeming like a problem of a biological nature, rather than a philosophical one.

            As uncomfortable as I knew the conversation might be, that fact told me I had to talk to Donnie in private. Despite the late hour my thoughts had kept me up until, I knew the genius would still be up; our brief time watching TV together that evening was the most downtime he’d gotten since moving to the new lair, and I was confident he’d either be fixing, building, taking apart, or reading something. When I stepped out of my room to hear silence from his lab on the ground floor, that ruled out the first three options.

            Along with cable access came the Internet, and while he promised us our own devices as soon as he could find some salvageable ones at the junkyard, I knew for a fact he’d turned up a laptop on our last run for personal use. If he’d become a bona fide academic just from the books we’d accumulated in our old home, now that he had access to a near-infinite world of information, I imagined he’d be like a honeybee, sucking up the sweet nectar of knowledge as much as he possibly could. Still unfamiliar with the courtesies of living in private rooms, I almost barged right into Don’s bedroom, but caught myself at the last moment, and gave a couple quiet knocks.

            “Hey, Donnie?” I kept my voice low, to not wake the others. “You still up?”

            Cupping my ear to the door, I thought I could make out a faint ‘mm-hmm’, and slowly let myself in. His room was dark, but for the lamp on his desk and the blue glow of his computer monitor beside it. Before my eyes could register where he was, my nostrils were flooded with a familiar musky scent, one riddled with enticing new hints of lavender and grape. The sound that I had thought to be my brother bidding me to enter was, in fact, the treble of a churr resounding from his chest as he slumped back in his chair. His eyes were locked onto the flicker of a video onscreen, ears covered by his bulky old pair of headphones, and his hand was furiously pumping up and down between his legs.

            A voice in my head bid me to shut the door before I was spotted, but instead, my gaze fixed itself on my brother as he stroked his impressive length at a frantic pace. While it seemed a great deal narrower than my own, my second-youngest brother seemed to have a couple inches on the rest of us in more ways than one. It certainly didn’t look out of place on my leanest, most svelte sibling, whose churring and choked whines seemed so much higher-pitched and more feminine than those I’d heard from Raph. Donnie was always the most timid and introverted of the four of us, concealing much of the exuberance of his youth behind a stoic, studious façade, but there in the solitude of his room, that mask was completely off. I felt hypnotized as I watched his pace quicken, and listened as his noises became more needful, until with a stifled groan, he shot his load all across his plastron. The first jet would have hit him square in the jaw, had he not let his head hang back over his chair as his body went almost entirely slack.

            Before he could take his headphones off, I gingerly shut the door, and turned to lean over the railing. Having gone to seek my brainiest brother in hopes of finding clarity, I was left with even more questions. My conscious flooded with all the ways Donnie contrasted against Raph: toned and slim versus beefy and hulking, shy and logical versus cocky and passionate. Instead of my usual fantasy of Raph pinning me down and having his way with me, my brain flipped the role I typically played; now, it was me forcing Don to the ground, feeling his slender form writhe beneath mine, and coaxing those alluring sounds from his throat. The thought of doing so left me feeling an aching pulse between my hips in only an instant.

            The self-hatred that had begun to stew within me when I realized how I felt about Raph more than doubled. With the hothead, he was physically stronger than myself, and arguably as good a fighter, but that was clearly not the case with Donnie. Even more than Mikey, the genius was always a bit slower, more tentative, and because of that, he was the one I felt most compelled to protect. The urges that began to bloom within me after seeing what I saw…They seemed like the opposite of protection. If what I wanted to do to him was the male-on-male equivalent of what we’d watched on TV, it certainly didn’t look like the female had enjoyed herself during the act, and I shuddered to think of inflicting that same displeasure upon my most vulnerable brother.

            Master Splinter could never know, that much had long been clear to me. Donnie, now, was off-limits for talking to about what had been troubling me; I didn’t want to even begin to think of how shameful such a conversation would be. And obviously, Mikey would be of no help, being the youngest, most immature, and likely having no knowledge of anything that had been going on, biologically or spiritually. That left one option remaining, one who I had previously considered off-limits as well, before the circumstances had changed. One who tended not to judge too critically, think too deeply, or speak too much, but rather acted on impulse in the heat of the moment.

            My gaze drifted around to Raphael’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place roughly after S01E03.
> 
> As always, I speak of Donnie being slightly taller than Leo because I prefer the character designs of the 2012 franchise, even if I’m writing in 2003. The ’03 characters just look too damn similar!
> 
> So, if you’ve been keeping track of what each of the bro’s scent smells like:
> 
> Leo: seawater (blue) and peppermint (if you believe chewing gum packaging, blue)
> 
> Raph: cinnamon (red) and ash (a byproduct of fire, which is usually red)
> 
> Don: lavender (purple) and grapes (of the purple variety)
> 
> Anyone wanna take a crack at what Mike’s gonna smell like? Lmao I just thought this was a fun little tidbit to throw in.
> 
> The nature documentary is supposed to be “Andes to Amazon”, a 2000 BBC special which would likely be airing around 2003. 
> 
> I’ve started a full-time job recently, which has my energy and creativity levels drained to zero by the time I get out, so don’t be surprised if I start working almost exclusively on weekends. Sorry!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

            “How many times do I gotta tell ya, twerp? I ain’t got your stupid comic books.” A gruff voice growled through the door. “Now leave me alone!”

            “It’s Leo.” I mumbled softly. “Can I come in?”

            A brief pause hung in the air.

            “It’s unlocked.”

            Slowly prodding the door open, I took in my first proper view of Raph’s room. Though he’d only made the space his own in the last handful of days, it already seemed to reflect his personality. While not genuinely messy, his belt, mask, and pads were left unceremoniously scattered across the floor, and his sais lay within arm’s reach at the edge of his bed. An untidy stack of fitness magazines sat on his nightstand, otherwise bare but for a lamp, the room’s only light source. His bedsheets were tangled up between his legs, chest exposed, as he leaned against the headboard and read a well-worn copy of some superhero comic, no doubt pilfered from Mikey. Appearing calm in such a state of repose, he cast a curious glance my way as I lingered in the doorway.

            “Surprised you ain’t in bed by now.” He murmured. “Long day, huh?”

            Even now, in what could have been the context of a perfectly normal and unassuming brotherly conversation, I felt so disarmed by the calm, tender demeanor of my otherwise fiery brother. It was as if he had to show off some kind of steely bravado in front of the others, but when the two of us were alone, he felt comfortable enough to make himself vulnerable.

            “Yeah.” I sighed, closing the door behind me. “Couldn’t fall asleep, though.”

            “Y’know what helps me get to sleep?” He shot me a sly grin over the top of the comic book.

            “That’s…kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” I looked away, trying to think of how I could possibly put my whirlwind of thoughts into words.

            “Yeah?” He tucked the comic in between magazines on his nightstand, and shifted his posture more upright, a wordless gesture to sit at the foot of his bed. “Ya don’t usually like talkin’ about it.”

            “I don’t.” The mattress creaked as I gingerly lowered myself onto the very end, as far away from any potential contact as possible. “But I don’t really know who else to turn to.”

            “What happened, ya gave yourself rug-burn or something?” He scoffed. “I think Donnie’s got some lotion for that in the bathroom cabinet.”

            “No, it’s not…wait. Really?” Had I been the first one to find out about Don? Or had Raph gotten to him first?

            “Yeah, the oven practically torched me while I was helping him get it running. I figure the stuff works on any kinda burn.” He scooted an inch closer toward me, and I would have retreated further if there was any space left on the bed. “So, what’s troublin’ ya, Fearless? If it’s got you coming to _me_ for advice, it must be pretty serious.”

            “I…Um.” I cleared my throat, breaking my gaze’s lock on the vibrant jade of his irises and looking down to the sheets. “So, the things you think about when you’re, uh…”

            “Jackin’ it.” He snickered. “Go on.”

            “Who do they involve?”

            “Hmm.” He grunted, in more of an amused fashion than an angry one. “Since I’m assumin’ this is more of a heart-to-heart than an interrogation, I take it you ain’t planning on blabbing, or ratting me out if I tell ya something ya don’t wanna hear?”

            “Of course.” At that, I felt a bit misjudged and hurt, but I couldn’t fault him for it. Years and years of being the foremost tattletale of the foursome had certainly built up a reputation on my part.

            “Good.” He huffed. “Just makin’ sure, is all. Alright, so…You remember that junkyard run we made last year? To get a replacement TV for Splinter?”

            “After you and Mike broke the old one.” I recalled.

            “The little punk started it.” He grumbled. “Anyways, the place wasn’t empty like we thought. I heard something coming from that dumpy little shack on the edge of the place. Snuck inside to see what was going on.” Rolling over onto his side, Raph slid a magazine out from in between his mattress and box-spring. “Turns out, the bums hiding out in there thought this was pretty valuable.”

            He tossed me the battered old paperback, reading “Playboy” as its title. As I flipped through its pages quickly and saw dozens of human women in…suggestive situations, shall we say, my expression clearly showed how shocked I was, leading my brother to let out a knowing chuckle as he snatched it from my hands.

            “And after seeing what the winner of the scrap did once he got his hands on this…” He let his free hand form a ring in the air, in front of the base of his plastron, and made a lewd pumping motion. “It made sense to give it a try, once I figured out what he was doin’ it for. Thing is, it didn’t accomplish too much.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, there ain’t anything interesting to me in there.” He leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice. “It don’t get my nut off. Y’know what I mean?”

            “I think so?” To be honest, I didn’t understand half the slang that he and Mike had picked up on, but most of it was contextual.

            “So, after realizing that human chicks weren’t nothin’ to get excited about, I moved on to the next logical thing.” He set the magazine down on his nightstand and removed another from the stack, titled “Flex.” On its cover stood a huge, hulking man, with enormous muscles bulging well beyond even the proportions of my most muscular brother.

            If seeing the Playboy left me dumbfounded, this newest revelation left me practically comatose. My knowledge of same-sex attraction, at least with regard to humans, came only from news reports about states recognizing civil unions, Master Splinter gushing about Ellen DeGeneres getting her own show, and one brief glimpse of a Pride parade through a storm drain before Sensei carefully diverted us down a different route of tunnels. On other occasions, though, either listening to humans from the sewer or sneaking up to the surface, Raph and Mike had been the ones to explain the various slurs and insults we overheard, many of which were designed to denigrate people with such tendencies. That limited exposure to the concept still informed me of the taboo, albeit a receding one, that surrounded it. Somehow, I’d never drawn the parallel between a human man wanting another man, and my own feelings toward my brothers, until that very moment.

            I’d known that Raph had been collecting whatever workout magazines we could get our hands on for years, ostensibly for tips and tricks on building up his own physique, but this…This was something my mind could scarcely comprehend.

            “And?” I goaded.

            “And it didn’t do the trick either.” He grabbed the magazine back, stroking thoughtfully at his chin with his other hand. “But it felt like I was gettin’ closer.”

            “Closer, how?” I tried to follow his train of thought, like a childhood game of hotter-or-colder, but I knew my own mind had to be imparting bias as to what he was thinking of.

            “This is the part where ya gotta promise ya won’t squeal.” He hunched even further forward, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, now less than a foot away from my ear. It might have been my imagination, but I swore I caught a subtle whiff of the same spicy, smoky musk he had emanated during our interludes in weeks past. I instructed my head to nod, or my lips to utter something in the affirmative, but what slipped out next was out of my control.

            “You think about something that Master Splinter told us was improper.” I breathed, and watched as his gaze dropped down to the blankets between us dejectedly.

            “I…Yeah.” He sighed, his voice beginning to quiver almost imperceptibly. “Ya got me. The stuff I wanna do…I mean, it don’t make sense, why it gets me goin’. It seems like it might hurt ya, and…”

            “…You wouldn’t want to hurt your brothers.”

            “Sure, I’ll wail on you guys every now and then…Mikey, a little more often than you, but the point stands. It ain’t like that kinda hurt. It’s different.” He scooted his legs up closer to his chest, as if the room were turning brisk. “A couple years back, I saw somethin’ bad topside. It was one of my first times sneaking out up there…This scumbag had a chick cornered in some dead-end alley. I didn’t really understand what the fuck he was doing. I just remember her not likin’ it.”

            “Did you at least…”

            “Of course I stopped him!” Raph cut me off with a snarl. “But all I got in was a couple lucky shots, and the dickhead passed the fuck out. Now that I really get what he did to her, after seeing that shit on TV earlier, I shoulda put the guy in the dirt. And now that I get what I wanna do to my family…” He let his head hang forward and press against his knees, half-hiding behind the blankets.

            “We ‘re not females, though. It’s not like you could actually…”

            “ _Don’t you fuckin’ say it!_ ” His words started as a choked sob, but quickly mutated into an almost-convincing growl, before he took a deep sniffle and continued. “It ain’t like there’s only one way to take advantage of someone. But I mustered up the balls to talk to Dad about it a few months later. Used real broad terms, told him it was something from a book, and after getting my ear chewed off about what kinda books I bring into the lair, he gave me the gist of it: if ya didn’t get ‘em to say ‘yes’, then you’re a…” his voice plummeted to a faint shudder, and his hands tensed into fists. “Rapist. And that don’t just apply to doin’ the whole enchilada. Could be anything from kissin’ someone without permission, to doin’ what I did to ya out in the tunnels.”

            “That?” I gasped. He’d seriously held onto that moment for as long as I had? “Raph, you didn’t hurt me. If anything, I…”

            “That don’t make it right.” He looked at me incredulously, appearing almost angry that I would try to rationalize what had happened between us. “You shoulda done more than slap my hand away and ask what’s wrong with me. I’d have beaten the shell off me if I was you.”

            “But, I…”

            “And I kept comin’ out on nights I knew you’d be there. Half-hoping ya weren’t bothered by it, and things would just go back to normal, but half-wishing we could do more.” He grimaced, trying to blink back the glistening moisture showing in the corner of his eyes. “Together. Even though I know it’s fucked up, and ya made it clear ya didn’t want me touching ya like…”

            “ _Raph_.” I planted my palm firmly on his fist, cutting him off to break through the anguished display. “I wanted to do more too.”

            “Huh?” His eyes went wide as he stared at the contact between our hands.

            “That’s why I came here in the first place.” I chuckled. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone either, so I kept it bottled up, and…Well, you’re usually the expert on acting on emotion without thinking. At least, that’s what I thought.”

            “You’re tellin’ me…” He wiped a tear away with his free hand, doing his best to regain composure and trying on his trademark confident smirk. “Mister High-and-Mighty, Splinter Junior, the Fearless Leader…wants to fool around?”

            “Like you said…” I tightened my grip on his hand, feeling a nervous smile creep across my lips. “I don’t know why it gets me going. But it does. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

            “Okay.” He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, even breath through his nose. “Wow. Alright. I…” When his eyes met mine, the smile had been evicted by a glare of terrifying seriousness. “First off, we gotta keep this between us. Secret.”

            “Of course.”

            “And if anything I do hurts ya, stop me. I give ya permission to clobber me, if need be.”

            “I’ve never needed permission before.” I snickered, attempting to lighten his sudden turn in mood.

            “I’m serious, ya fuckin’ douchebag.” He tried to maintain his severity, but cracked a grin beneath the façade.

            “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be…” I teased, standing up from the bed and slowly turning toward the door. In a flash, he kicked the sheets off his legs, and shot a hand out toward my wrist, grasping it before I could even take a step away.

            “Hey, I’m just messin’ around.” He spun me around with a gentle tug, revealing the glint of lust in his gaze. With all the covers in a pile at the edge of the bed, I could see why he’d been sitting in such a hunched and obscuring posture: the bulge between scutes at the bottom of his plastron was becoming unmistakable. On seeing how sharply focused my stare was at the sight before me, he released his hold on my arm, as if to make sure he wasn’t coercing me for the hundredth time. Not needing to be prompted, I moved forward and kneeled at his feet on the mattress. Over the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears, all I could hear was the steady rhythmic tide of his breathing as my fingers drew closer and closer to their target.

            “Y’know I won’t hate ya if ya chicken out now.” He gulped.

            Without even bothering to respond or look up at him, I let my thumb delicately trace the fleshy groove, and in an instant, his manhood burst forth into my hand. Its furious-looking head glistened with a bead of liquid weeping from its tip, and from this distance, I could see just how vascular and riddled with veins his organ was, practically looking like it was about to explode before my very eyes as it bobbed up and down in time with his pulse. As if it were made of glass, I slowly wrapped my hand around the shaft until the pad of my thumb landed on the bridge of skin just below the head, and I felt a puff of hot air jet from Raph’s nostrils and blow across my scalp.

            “Sit up.” He murmured. “Can’t reach ya all the way down there.”

            I obliged, swinging my legs around so they crossed over his, and bringing my own crotch closer to his as the needful pressure within became too much to contain. My shift in position forced my own turgid member out into the air, letting it flop down onto the soft cloth of my brother’s sheets. I drew in a sharp breath as its most sensitive region dragged on the fabric. Tentatively, Raph’s hand crept between us, walking toward me over the blankets like a three-legged spider until it made its way onto my thigh. He gave the muscle a gentle squeeze, but before his grip ascended any further, I found his lidded eyes staring intently into my own.

            “D’ya mind if I try somethin’?” He purred, with a tone that left me unable to do anything but nod hurriedly. “Close your eyes.”

            Without question, I obeyed, and my heart raced with anxiety as I pondered exactly what he might be planning. After what very well could have been a lifetime, I was clued in by the steam of his breath on the skin of my jaw, just a moment before his lips locked with mine. Their pillowy quality seemed so jarring in contrast to the rest of him; for a turtle whose body and personality screamed ‘hard’, it seemed I’d found the one aspect of him that was unmistakably soft. It made me freeze up like a statue, the exploratory motions of my fingers halting until he pulled away, and my eyes opened.

            “Sorry, I just…” He wouldn’t meet my gaze, despite his face being only inches from mine, and his hand began to lift off my leg. Before I could even process that my body language had given him the idea I wasn’t interested, reflexes set into motion so I could retain the contact I’d hungered for. My free palm clasped down on top of his, the other wrapping around his cock and giving it a firm stroke upward, and I leaned in until my mouth found the salty, sanguine taste it had become addicted to in such a brief meeting. A churr began to resound from within his chest, rumbling like an earthquake at such proximity to me, and my own followed suit shortly after. Pressing forward even further, I let my hand guide his toward the aching flesh of my manhood until he took the hint, wrapping it in his fingers and mirroring the pace of my pumping on his own.

            I pulled away from our kiss to draw in a breath of fresh air, and felt Raph’s free hand latch onto the edge of my carapace, as if to make sure I couldn’t retreat too far back from him.

            “’S way better than I expected.” He fleered, letting the tips of his fingers trace around my ribs. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

            Before I could respond likewise, he dove right back in, planting his lips on mine again and pulling my chest toward his until our plastrons clacked together. Now so close that I could feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest with each breath, our knuckles kept knocking into one another’s as they pistoned up and down. After a few times, he released his grip on my organ and pushed my hand away from his own, much to my surprise. As I prepared to break our lips’ lock and ask what was wrong, his firm, calloused palm sandwiched my cock alongside his, and pumped the two of them in unison.

            Before long, Raph withdrew from our kiss, and I opened my eyes to see his flushed face, sweat beading on his brow, staring back at me.

            “Leo…I think I’m gonna…” He panted, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and slumping forward to rest his head on my collar bone. While I had an inkling of what was about to happen as he said it, my suspicions were confirmed as his muscles started to tense up and a throaty groan brewed in the back of his mouth. I wrapped my arms tightly around his shell and pulled him as close to me as possible, letting my chin sit atop his head as thick ropes of seed jetted out and landed on my chest. Feeling him quiver in my embrace and smelling his concentrated essence was enough to push me over the edge, as my tendons started to tighten and nerves began to fire with white-hot pleasure. Before he’d finished with his own load, mine came firing out, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out into the open.

            When it was over, I felt spent enough to collapse right there on my brother’s mattress and fall asleep, but knew it’d be a logistical nightmare to make sure we wouldn’t be seen together come morning. Instead, once I caught my breath, I swung a leg off the bed and peeled my chest off his, gingerly getting off the mattress without letting any spunk drip down onto his sheets.

            “Was it good?” Raph fell back onto his pillows with a thud, looking up at me through the haze of sleepy bliss in his eyes.

            “Obviously.” I laughed, reluctantly turning toward the door. “Thanks.”

            “You should stay.” He rumbled, scooting toward the wall as if to make room for me to lie beside him. “All the chicks in the movies say the cuddling after is just as good as the sex.”

            “I bet they don’t have two brothers and a father who want them up early for training.” I countered, letting my hand rest on the doorknob. “Maybe next time, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry this took so long! My pace of productivity has slowed to less than that of a turtle; I tell myself I'll use my weekends to get some writing done, then go out socializing all weekend and have nothing to show for it come Monday! It certainly doesn't help that I've come down with a deathly head-cold, and I'm making birthday plans for this coming weekend, but I'll do my best to chip away at my long list of stuff to work on day by day!
> 
> Thanks for your continued reads and support! Stay tuned folks <3


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